


And the stars shine so bright

by Chiisanafukuro (makuro)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Panic Attacks, Paparazzi AU, TW: assault reference, galra and alteans on earth, more tags as I keep writing?, sexual harassment situations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-10-18 15:41:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17583668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makuro/pseuds/Chiisanafukuro
Summary: Keith Kogane is an influencer, a fashion icon, an heir to a legacy, and a goddamn mess.Shiro just has a job to do.





	1. Ms. Majesty

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration ala the AMAZING Paparazzi AU by [Joltikon](https://twitter.com/joltikon). Got me having ALL SORTS of feels, and then I made them mistake of looking at the art while listening to the Queen album by Nicki and.... well.... we'll see how far this rabbit hole goes. I've got a few parts planned <3 
> 
> (songs for this chapter: Majesty, Run and Hide, Coco Chanel, Ganja Burn) 
> 
> Unbeta'd because I was impatient and wanted to post some already, please forgive the inevitable typo I missed.

The LA heat bore down on him, oppressive and seeking out any dry patches of skin. Only celebrities survived this heat intact, their teams swarming them to make sure they glistened and didn’t sweat.

Shiro, along with the five other guys from his company, were sweating waiting outside the mansion. He wasn’t even sure he wanted this job. His _boss_ wanted him to want this job. He wasn’t convinced. Protecting one of those celebrities who were famous for being a rich brat? Not exactly what he’d been thinking when he switched to a private security firm.

But Krolia Kogane was going to shell out bank to keep her son safe. Shiro was one of the best body guards Garrison had. It was an easy decision for Iverson.

While they waited for he Queen of Fashion herself, Shiro took in the grounds. The mansion was up in the hills, set back from the road by a long drive and locked gate. The keypad to the gate had a security camera at least. The ground were sweeping, a huge garden off the right side of the house. Pool with a bridge and a cove to the right. The house was set back into the hillside, so that mean entries from the back would be difficult.That had been a smart move on Krolia’s part. No threats from the northeast.

One of the huge wooden doors open and Axca, Krolia’s assistant, walked briskly out. Her heels struck the pavement like she wanted them to leave dents. Her lilac skin was a reminder that over half of the people they would be dealing with were Galra.

“You may all come in now. She’s ready to give you the rundown.”

The other guards grumbled but filed in anyway. Shiro took up the back, wanting time to look over the building. The front door was heavy, oak, he noticed when he got up close. It also had a keypad lock next to it. Easier to hack than most would think. He’d need to ask about physical locks.

The foyer opened up to a vaulted ceiling and sprawling marble staircase. High windows let in the California light and the AC kept it from cooking them. Shiro could already feel the sweat cooling on his skin and under his suit.

Krolia was standing at the bottom of the stairs, two cosmic wolves by her side. His coworkers flinched at this. Shiro was unfazed. He had to wonder if they had even bothered to read up on the family.

One of them—Chris? Curtis?—nudged him in the ribs. “Lots of weapons,” he said out of the corner of his mouth.

“She collects them,” Shiro grunted back. The foyer walls alone boasted four gleaming naginata. “Remember, _she_ doesn’t need us here. We’re her for her son.”

“Precisely right,” Krolia said.

Shiro straightened. The woman had ears like a bat—noted. The Galra had long been a warrior race before they turned to exploration with the Alteans. Even if they had adopted peaceful ways, you never wanted to get into a fight with one. “Apologies ma’am, I was explaining the naginata to my coworker.”

Krolia raised a delicate eyebrow. “Well. At least one of you did your homework. I find earth weapons simple and beautiful for that. I would warn you that I keep them all sharp.” She cleared her throat and leveled them all with a steel gaze. “Your friend is right, you needn’t worry yourself with me while you are here. You’re here to watch over my son. He’s proven time and time again that he can get himself into enough trouble to be a twin. You are to ensure his safety, especially given recent threats.”

Shiro flashed back to the news of the socialite getting into a near brawl with a skinhead. There were several loud conservatives gunning for the kid. Seemed like he loved egging them on, to his mother’s annoyance and fear.

“I will warn you. He doesn’t want any of you here. He is going to try and ditch you, he is going to try and goad you into fights, he’s going to make your lives _hell_. He may even try to get you to hit him, which will be grounds for immediate termination. I’ll remind you now, that _is his goal_.” She sighed heavily. “Your task is to protect my son from threats and from _himself_. So please,” she smiled, a sharp toothed mother tiger, “don’t take it personally when I inevitably have to fire some of you.”

She walked briskly to her left, leaving them all gaping in her wake.

“Is she fucking serious?” Another coworker muttered.

Shiro elbowed past them all and followed Krolia. He knew power moves. He also knew every word of that warning wasn’t idle. If they were going to survive the Kogane’s they were going to have to keep up.

Krolia had walked into a huge living room, vaulted ceilings allowing for a view of each floor landing up to the third. Shiro noted that they stopped at the fourth though, the ceiling blocking any view up that high.

The screen that took up over half of the wall, set between two bay windows, was displaying a video game. Two video chats were up on the side of the screen, he recognized a model he’d seen around on one of them. He didn’t recognize the other face. The two were saying something but the words were muted.

Shiro redirected his gaze to the couch. A dark head was just visible over the top of it, headphones in place.

“Fucking move James!”

Krolia was already behind the couch and ripped the headset off.

“You gotta move behind the—ACK!” Keith popped up over the couch, reaching for the headset, crop top riding up and showing off a long patch of lean skin.

Shiro was only a man, and Keith, despite anything the media said, was insanely attractive. Even in his lime green booty shorts and grey crop top. His hair was everywhere, flopping into his furious face. He’d caught sight of the line of suits.

“Who the fuck are they.”

“Keith.”

“Oh come _on_! It was one fight. One! And now you’ve got a team of dogs to baby sit me? What the fuck.” He slumped back down onto the couch, flicking off the TV. Shiro caught sight of the model laughing before the screen went black.

“Kolivan and I agreed—”

“Of course you did. You two fuck yet? Everyone is waiting for it.”

“—that you need escorts. Body guards. At least until you stop getting yourself into situations were people want to gleefully stab you!”

“I know how to stab back,” Keith grumbled.

“You’re right. You do. So do it next time.” She leaned over the couch, coiled like a panther. “Next time some degenerate has you by the throat for daring to be queer in his face, take him down. Like we know you can. Do it. Prove it to me that you won’t freeze up.”

The room went ice cold. It was clearly a conversation that none of them should be present for, and Krolia knew that. A move calculated to out maneuver her petulant son. Keith was deadly silent as he rose from the couch, fury smeared over his face.

Shiro still thought he was beautiful, even if he was going to be a royal pain in his ass.

“These men are from Garrison. Kolivan recommended them since none of his own team will work.”

“Regris was fine.”

“Regris let you get high on molly and strip in the street because he doesn’t know how to say _no_ to his cousin.” Krolia gestured to them. “Introduce yourselves.”

Shiro let the rest of them go first. When Curtis finished with his short but clearly nervous speech, Shiro tilted his head at Keith. “Takashi Shirogane. You can call me Shiro.”

Keith eyed him up and down, scowl still firmly in place. “I’m going to my room. Don’t send the puppies after me.” He stalked away and up the stairs. Shiro watched him until he hit the third landing and went right down the hallway. The others were watching too, but their smirks set Shiro’s nerves off.

Krolia brought their attention back to her. “I’m leaving for an event tonight. Familiarize yourself with the house. I’m sure Iverson already gave you the numbers you would need in case of an emergency. Your rooms are located here on the first floor, two to a room for now, until we see who’s staying. I apologize for the inconvenience.” Krolia pushed a button on the wall intercom and Axca reappeared. “I’m headed out, please show them to their rooms.” Axca nodded and Krolia was gone.

“If you’ll all follow me?”

 

The rooms were huge. Two double beds in each, with enough space to stay out of each other’s hair. Shiro was rooming with Curtis, who babbled the entire time they unpacked about how terrifying Krolia was. Shiro did his best to sooth him, going over the house layout so far and other things he’d noticed. Curtis calmed at that.

“You’re good at this,” he said. “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this job.”

“It’s not like it’s an easy one,” Shiro agreed. Keith’s barely contained rage was only going to get worse, not better. “Covering for someone who doesn’t want protection makes it twice as hard to do your job. If there’s too much stress you mess up. There’s no shame in saying you’re not a good fit. You know Iverson won’t fire you over it either.” Shiro hauled his suitcase up into the closet. “He sent six of us expecting two or three to come stay for the position.”

“You’re right.” Curtis flopped back onto his bed. “I’ll give it a day or two. See how he is.”

One of the other guys, Brad maybe, poked his head in. “You guys talking about the little princess? I was taking bets with the guys to see which ones of us can get a leg over the alien bitch fir—”

Shiro had him up against the wall in a second.

“Shiro!”

“Dude, what the fuck!” Brad wriggled and gasped in Shiro’s grip. Shiro didn’t let up.

Shiro had been waiting for this. From the way they had all be snickering in the car, to how they’d looked at Keith when he walked upstairs. There were rumors about Keith. Pages of tabloids splashed with them. Shiro had dug them all up, read in between the lines. Maybe it was because he had that he jumped to defense. Maybe he was just already in the mindset of bodyguard.

Maybe he was sick of little boys and their rape fantasies.

“Don’t make me have to protect him from _you_. You won’t make it back to Iverson.” He let Brad go and watched him crumple into a heap on the ground. “I don’t give a fuck what you think about him, he’s our client. We’re here to protect, not get your dick wet in some fucked up trap fantasy, or whatever is going through your simple little heads. I catch word of this again and you’re out. Got it?”

“Fuck you Shirogane. It’s not like you’ll last any more than the rest of us.”

“Don’t really care. I’ve got a job to do _right now._ And if that means beating the shit out of you? So be it.”

 

Kosmo snuffled and shoved his head around Keith’s lap, seeking more scratches. Keith was too agitated to really commit to pampering the pup. Six. _Six_ meatheads to trot after him and stop him from being ‘too much’.

Like he wouldn’t fucking kick the shit out of—

The memory washed over him unbidden. He felt the hands on him instantly, the sensation surfacing despite every effort to cram it down into the dark recesses of his mind. Flashing lights and a dim private booth. Drinks made wrong but _not_ wrong enough to notice. Altered.

The world tilting in and out of focus and there were so _many hands._ Unable to defend himself like years of training had taught him. _Weak, sloppy, uncoordinated flailing._

He barely remembered it beyond hands all over him and crawling out of the club to call Kolivan. Flashes from paparazzi. The little golden boy fallen from his pillar in a youthful haze. The moment the vultures had be waiting for.

Keith stared at the wall, ironically at the Berkeley degree he’d earned at nineteen. It hung there mocking him. They wanted to watch you fall and the moment you tripped you crawled down there on your own, it seemed to say. Look at what you could have been.

He wanted to throw something at the frame and shatter it. He was too proud to do it. That degree had been hard work, overcoming prejudice against his age. Against his mother’s race and name. He deserved it. At least he did, when he’d gotten it. Messing the degree up wasn’t going to change what happened after. It would just make him sad again.

Kosmo whined and licked his arm.

“I need to get out of here,” Keith whispered. He wasn’t sure if he meant the house or his life in general.

In the end it was the house. He needed to ride. By this time his mother was long gone, and the puppies could get their first taste of just who they were dealing with.

Not two minutes after he’d gotten to the garage the puppies filed in. The one with white bangs was standing a bit away from the others. In-fighting already. That was something he could use.

“I’m going for a ride,” he announced. “Try and keep up or mom will fire you when we get back.” He nodded his head at one of the Escalades. They’d all fit in that. “Use whatever you want that’s on that side of the garage.”

He watched them all file over to the Escalade like he thought they would. It wasn’t going to keep up with his XDiavel-S. The Ducati had been a present to himself on his last birthday. She was sleek, red, and felt like sex on the road. He ran his fingers over her chassis lovingly. She’d get him away from here, even for a little bit.

“ _Any_ of them on that side?”

He turned to see white-bangs looked at him. His head was tilted and his thumb was jabbed over his shoulder pointing at something. Keith followed the line of sight. His old black Panigale.

He snorted. “Sure. Don’t turn yourself into road rash, not sure mom wants to pay out on life insurance.”

The man smirked, and god if it wasn’t sexy on him. He looked like he was made out of greek god leftovers. The ancients ones gathering up their debris and forging it all into one last shot at godhood. Keith low-key wanted to try and climb him like a tree.

That might get him fired too.

He filed the thought away and swung a leg over his bike. Helmet firmly on, the moment the garage door lifted all the way her revved the engine and took off like a shot. The startled shouts were muffled by the roar of the bike and his helmet, but still felt so satisfying.

The open road wound around the foothills. He eased along them like caressing a lover, letting his weight keep the bike moving sweetly around them. Regris had been the one to teach him how to ride, doing all of Keith’s ride-along hours with him for his license. Krolia though, she’d been the one to teach him how to _ride._ Her custom bike was locked up in a secure part of the garage. He missed coming out with her, but there wasn’t time lately.

And if there was, they weren’t on the terms for a friendly ride right now anyway.

He could almost hear her engine though, tailing behind him to make sure he was okay. Revving her engine to encourage him, let him know she was there, the roar getting louder as she—

Wait.

Keith glanced in his mirror. There _was_ a bike behind him. But it wasn’t his mother’s custom purple Monster, it was the Panigale.

He snorted. So one of the puppies wasn’t completely useless.

Keith kept his pace up, riding like he would with his mom. He was begrudgingly pleased to find that white-bangs could more than keep up. He was pacing himself to tail Keith perfectly. Keith wanted to pull a move and egg him into a race, but these roads were too winding for that. It’d end up with one of them plastered on the pavement for sure.

A secluded sightseeing spot off the side of the road caught his eye and he skidded into the parking lot for it. They were far out by the coast now, having ridden for the better part of an hour, almost out to Malibu.

The Panigale parked next to him before he could fully get his helmet off. He waited for the man to get his own off, just watching his movements.

His hair hadn’t suffered from the helmet as much as Keith’s had, he was sure of that. There was something bright in his eyes too. Like he was coming down from a mad chase. In a way, maybe he was.

“You handle her well,” white-bangs said, nodding at the XDiavel. “Haven’t seen one up close before.”

Keith smirked and ran and hand over her handle bar. “Not too bad yourself there. Not a lot of people can keep up with me.”

“People who chose to tail someone on a Ducati with an Escalade shouldn’t be allowed to in the first place,” he snorted. He was handsome up close. There was a wide scar over his nose, flaring out onto cheek bones. It only served to make him more handsome. Pale grey eyes twinkled in the moonlight. He was relaxed in a calculated way. Making himself look less like a mountain of meat and more approachable. An attempt to warm Keith up to him.

Keith hated that it was kind of working. “Got a name, puppy?”

“Shiro.” He tucked the helmet under his arm and held his hand out. “Nice to meet you formally, Mr. Kogane.”

Keith flinched, but shook his hand anyway. “Just Keith is fine.”

Shiro smiled and everything inside of Keith _melted_.

Well, if the other five guards were pure idiots that would be all right, as long as he got to play with this one for a little bit.

“You come out here a lot?” Shiro asked. He left his helmet on the seat of his bike and went to lean over the railing, staring out at the ocean.

“Yeah,” Keith admitted. There was a high probability the man would be following him out here multiple times a week until he got fired. Pretty face or no, he would eventually have to go. “It’s quiet. It’s like a spot I’d go when I needed a break during my senior year at Berkeley. I found this place a while back and it reminds me of there. Come out here to clear my head.”

Shiro looked at him over his shoulder. “That’s right. Early graduate, yeah? What was your major?”

Keith joined him at the railing. It wasn’t like his time at university was a secret. He was pretty sure Shiro, if he was as skilled as he looked, had already seen the answer on his wikipedia page. Still, he appreciated the effort at conversation. “Astrophysics.”

Shiro whistled. “Impressive.” He turned his head skyward to where stars were peeking out. “I was up there with the marines,” he said. “Got the scar on my face for it, and an honorable discharge.” It was casual, how he referenced it. Like there wasn’t a huge amount of pain behind the statement.

Keith recognized him then, from the wound on his face and the name. He felt like an idiot for not connecting him to the Xarnath ambush that had been blared on the news over and over. “You’re Captain Shirogane, aren’t you?”

Shiro smiled ruefully. “Figured an astrophysics major would know.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Look, there are things I don’t talk about a lot. I’m sure you’re the same.” He turned to fully look at Keith. His gaze was piercing, entrapping. If he said he could see Keith’s soul, he would have believed him in that moment. “We’re here to protect you. We can’t do that if you don’t let us. If you race out away from us like we’re the enemy. We’re here to help, Keith.” His gaze went soft then. Keith was tempted to say it was even sincere. “You gonna let us?”

He knew why they were there. That wasn’t the issue. It had never been the issue with these men invading his life.

Keith turned away and walked to his bike. “We should get back.” If Shiro had more to say he didn’t.

Keith felt his eyes on him the whole ride back.

He wasn’t as upset about it as he should have been.


	2. I was a late night cat fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad eggs are weeded out, and pasts start getting unearthed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took WAY longer than I wanted it to. But since the amazing [Joltikon](https://twitter.com/joltikon) is on wrist/hand rest, I wanted to get this up this week in their honor <3 
> 
> Title is from "Filthy Rich" by Evalyn.
> 
> HUGE shoutout to [Colie](https://twitter.com/Colie2183) for looking this over last minute!! Love you darling.

Music poured down from hidden speakers, a consultant tailed them as they moved through the store, two steps behind in case there was a question. It was almost as annoying as the gaggle of suits out front, but at least this attendant knew their place. 

“So there are only four guard dogs left?” Allura asked. Her hand trailed over the glass case, diamonds twinking back up at her. Allura gave them a cursory glance before moving to the case of sapphires. 

“Mm. Two left on the spot after they lost me on the bike. Mom scared them off after screaming at them all. In-fighting should take care of the rest.” Keith stayed by the diamonds. He was always fascinated with them. The glitter reminded him of stars, when the light hit them right. The price tag on these ones were outrageous, but that was the price of ethically sourced earth diamonds and he’d sat through too many sad documentaries to buy anything else at this point. 

“Do you think you’ll want any of them to stick around?” Allura made a subtle gesture and the attendant came over. She pointed at two bracelets in the case. “Your mother entirely wrong about you needing someone to watch your back.” 

Keith huffed and pushed a hip against the case. “Watching my back and dogging my every move are two _very_ different things, Allura.” He leaned over to look at the bracelets. “Get the one with the diamonds.”

“You would say that,” she chuckled. “It does help bring the blue to life though, doesn’t it?”

“It does. Unless there are any star sapphires?” 

“Not in a setting like this,” the attendant said. “We could work on a custom though, if Ms. King wanted?” 

“No, I need this for tomorrow night, the diamonds will do fine.” She reached into her clutch and passed her card over. “And you don’t think that any of the big dogs out there could turn into someone you trust enough to do that?”

Keith’s mind flitted back to sunset over a cliffside and sterling grey eyes. “No,” he said with more conviction than he felt. “I don’t even want to think about trying. Too much effort for a hired hand.”

Allura made a face that said ‘isn’t that the truth’ and turned to watch her purchase get wrapped up. “Still, would it hurt to give it a try?”

“We’ll have to see. It’s only been a week so far.” His eyes darted back to a luscious pair of earrings that his mother would have a fit over. The gems were fat, single studs with dangling teardrops connected. 

“Those would look good on you while you modeled my new line,” Allura purred in his ear. 

Keith pushed her off. “Are you still trying to talk me into that?” 

“Yes,” she pouted. “I want the line to feel inclusive, and the pastels would look so cute on you. The shoot for the spread is in a few weeks, think about it? I’ve got other models I can ask, but I want it to be you.”

“Why?” Keith frowned. His last gig had been months ago, and he wasn’t entirely eager to put himself on the runway or in front of a camera right now. The last paparazzi fight had been in the media for longer than anyone liked. 

“You need some good publicity. I need this line to make waves. How else to get people talking about it than put _you_ in it.” Allura was nothing if not cuttingly honest with people she liked. 

“Fair point. Send me the details and I’ll think about it.” He leaned over the counter. “Pack these up too. Charge them to the Kogane account.”

Allura raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Well, I can’t wear them with your panties if I don’t buy them.”

 

Brad was, unfortunately, not one of the assholes who peeled out of there on day two after Krolia’s tirade. At the moment he was greedily checking out Allura King as she walked out of the store with Keith. His sunglasses couldn’t hide the leer on his lips. 

Shiro elbowed past him and took point, Curtis at his elbow. Curtis had nearly fled the other day, too, until Shiro talked him out of it. He was a sweet guy, and earnest. Shiro didn’t want him getting cold feet because Krolia Kogane was a hurricane when it came to her family. 

“For someone who wants to jump to defense, Shirogane sure likes getting close to that ass.” That was Taylor. Shiro chose to ignore him. Getting into a brawl on Rodeo wasn’t going to help anything, no matter how badly he wanted to push the guy into the pavement. 

“That kind of distraction is what gets you in trouble, you know. Maybe it was that kind of ass that he was watching out on Kerbero—”

Something metal went whizzing past Shiro’s head and, if the squawking behind him was anything to go by, hit Brad square in the face. 

“Oops!” Keith chirped. He was turned back toward them, hand on his hip. “Those Coach charms, so much fun to play with but they slip out of your hand _so_ easily. Mind picking it up for me, doll?” He had the gall to pout as he said it, batting his eyelashes. 

Curtis bent down to pick up the t-rex key charm. “Uh, here, is it okay?” He handed it to Keith, wincing as Brad went off behind him. 

“Fucking watch it! Fucking thing cut my face!” 

“Oh no,” Keith cooed, clearly unrepentant. “Maybe you can get a cool scar too, be a little bit less jealous about surviving something horrific?”

Allura was laughing behind her hand, mirth clear in her aqua eyes. Keith took her arm, winking at Shiro once before hauling off down the street again. 

“Fucking bitch,” Brad muttered behind them. Shiro risked a glance to see that he was indeed bleeding under one eye, the scratch small, but head wounds always bled more. “Yeah get an eyeful, _Captain_. Fucking hypocrite.” 

Curtis bodily steered Shiro back to their charge. “Let it drop. He’s just pissed that Krolia is taking her ire out on us, not you. You were the one smart enough to follow on a bike. You’ve been the only one paying attention since we got here, and he’s mad that it’s working.” 

Shiro snorted. “Keith still wants us all gone. Don’t let that show just now fool you. He’ll find something to trip me with soon enough.” 

Curtis grimaced. “Yeah. Let’s just hope he gets Brad and Taylor first, then he gets magically endeared to us.” 

It was doubtful, Shiro thought. But the act just now was out of character for Keith. Or at least for Public Keith. The man he’d talked to that night out by the ocean might’ve done something like this. He did already for most of the club fights he got into. The guys he beat up were rarely in the right, but Keith was the one throwing drinks and screaming his head off. It always made it look like he started the fights, and the tabloids ate that up. Not that there had been many in the last few months.

Shiro watched him walk closer to Allura as they moved. When they stopped at a crosswalk, he could see a slight tremor in Keith. He was leaning on Allura for support. 

That first day confrontation between Keith and his mother came blaring back. There was no way a woman that into self defense and weapons didn’t teach her only son how to kick ass. His aim, and the strength behind that throw, proved it. 

Why were they even here?

Shiro shook his head and picked up the pace.

The worst part, though, was the glaring fact that Brad hadn’t totally been _wrong_. Shiro did watch that ass. More than he wanted to own up to. Keith was fire. He was a blaze of emotion and fury and biting sarcasm wrapped in a lithe, gorgeous frame. He wasn’t Shiro’s usual type, but who  modeled their ‘type’ after the unattainable? No one. At least no one at his age. 

It didn’t change the fact that Keith was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Ahead, Keith laughed at something Allura said. He tilted his head and the sun caught on his raven hair making it sheen midnight violet in the sun; a natural tint courtesy of his Galra mother. The exotic Galran model’s son, every day in the spotlight. Friend to Altean textile mogul heir Allura King among other top tier celebrities. Someone Shiro should covet from afar, not two yards away. 

So he put his desire in a headlock and wrestled into the dark, deep spots in his brain that he didn’t open up unless very drunk. 

“…put little princess in place…” 

Shiro turned halfway to Brad and Taylor. He could hear bits of their conversation, but not all of it. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to hear it all, if it was following the line he thought it was. 

“…here to keep that pretty ass safe… what about some _real_ danger? …show him…” 

Curtis nudged him. “You hearing them?” He kept his voice very low, between the two of them. 

Shiro nodded just enough for Curtis to catch it. If they actually did decide to do something, Brad and Taylor were bigger idiots than he thought. “We’ll keep a close watch over the next few days,” Shiro said. Hopefully his coworkers were just blowing off steam. 

 

“Well, Bob,” Keith said, leaning close to the desk, “between you and I, I’m really pretty boring.”

Laughed peeled out from the audience when Keith winked at Bob. Bob let out a couple of chuckles and gave Keith his patented ‘oh really?’ eyebrows. 

The interview was almost over and Keith was very ready to be back in the green room, away from the harsh stage lights. Somehow, someone had gotten word that he was starting work up again. Coupled with his mother’s launch of her new department store line, it meant he was back on the call list for little fill-in interviews like this. At least Bob had the decency to not bring up the club brawl from the last month. 

“Now Keith, we all know you’re not shy from speaking your mind,” Bob said, segueing from asking about Keith’s wild side. “With the recent uptick in politicians talking about limiting dual-planet citizenship, how are you feeling about your own position?”

Keith blinked hard. He’d heard. It was unfairly affecting the half-Alteans more, as there were significantly more of them here on Earth than Galra. The real reason for the laws even being brought up was so that half-Galra who went feral could get sent off-world. Their culture worked differently, but that was a hard pill to swallow in the face of assault. 

Krolia had painstakingly made sure Keith knew his Galra side and knew to keep it at _home_. Humans weren’t comfortable with a warrior race that felt ritual combat was an acceptable form of conflict resolution. 

“Earth is my home,” he said carefully. “I’ve never been to Daibazaal. That isn’t to say that I don’t own my Galran heritage—I am Galra _and_ human. But when it comes to documents, this is where I am from. My DNA doesn’t change that.” 

Applause rang out loud around the studio. Keith smiled at the audience, only half listening as Bob rattled on about his response. Good, that went well. The On Air sign shuttered off and staff started moving around for the next segment. 

“That was well said.” Bob reached out and clapped Keith on the shoulder. “It’s a clusterfuck what they’re doing.” 

“I’m trying to just stay ahead of it with mom if it affects my citizenship at all,” he said. “Thanks for steering away from the club fight.” 

“The question would have been a little too damning if I’d brought that up.” Bob tilted his face for makeup. “Tell your mother I said hello.” 

Keith rose from his seat and let himself be herded off the stage. “Thanks Bob, will do.” 

Behind the scenes the staff was scrambling around like bees. Moving around them was a bit of a dance, but there was a handler for the show with him. The greenroom door was propped open and Keith slid in away from the chaos.

His mother was inside with Shiro and Curtis, the only two Keith would actually allow around him right now. 

“All set?” Krolia asked, casually flipping through her phone. 

“Yeah, are we staying for the after stuff?” He flopped onto a couch and reached for a piece of mango from the fruit tray. 

Krolia sniffed and clicked her phone off. “No, since we’re in New York I thought we’d visit Hunk’s bistro. I don’t think he’s in right now, but it’d be good to stop by. I made a reservation.” 

Keith hummed around the mango, trying to look at least a little neutral. Inside he was ecstatic. The after taping parties were always a task of being polite to industry people he didn’t always like. Bob was fine, but he poked, a lot. His staff liked to think that they knew everything about the guests just because they worked on the show. Like they were as entitled to information as Bob was. 

“So when are the reservations?”

“In an hour, enough time to make our goodbyes and get across town.” She was looking at him with the ‘a lecture is coming’ stare. He crammed another piece of mango into his mouth. He’d been good. No fights, no sneaking out, not getting blackout drunk or high. There wasn’t anything she could possibly get on his case for. 

“Well, let’s get going then,” he said, breaking eye contact. 

Goodbyes were a blur of kissed cheeks and half-assed promises. Keith stayed back toward Curtis and Shiro. He wasn’t in the mood today. He wasn’t sure if it was being back in New York or being manhandled for the show that was getting to him. Hunk’s would be a welcome reprieve. He was glad though that the other meatheads wouldn’t be riding with them there. They’d both gone ahead to the restaurant.

Shiro drove them through the city, navigating the traffic like he’d grown up here. Maybe he had. Keith realized for all he was starting to begrudgingly like the hottest member of his babysitters, he knew very little about the man. 

Hunk’s bistro was tucked away enough that the atmosphere was low key and not crowded. It was small enough that Curtis and Shiro stayed outside while Krolia steering Keith into the restaurant. 

“So,” he said once they were settled. “What is it?” 

“What’s what?” She was looking over the menu, eyes never flashing up to his. 

This was what she did when she was disappointed. She let him dangle like a fish on the line until he was contrite enough to get what she wanted out of him. He hated that it worked. Her casual dismissal had been enough to drive him to placate her since he was a child. As a young adult, he had to remind himself that she wasn’t human, and that Galran discipline ran differently. Humans would call it training. 

Keith knew it was the only reason he wasn’t seeing a shrink three time a week after the year he’d had. “You’re upset about something, what is it?”

Krolia signaled the waiter and asked for two of the specials and a bottle of the sommelier’s recommended pairing. When he was back out of earshot she turned her shrewd gaze on Keith. “You took Allura’s shoot.” 

“Okay. I thought you’d be happy about that.” He tore at the bread on his plate. Hunk’s bread was always amazing, and he felt bad letting be the recipient of his nerves. “What’s the problem?” 

“What the—Keith you know who that publication likes to use as a photographer.” Krolia pursed her lips. “How are you going to handle that?” 

Keith sucked his cheeks in and dropped the bread. “I’ll handle it.”

“You’ll _handle_ it?”

“Professionally,” he amended. “I’ll suck it up for Allura and handle it. I’ll have my guard dogs there watching so he can’t do anything… over the top. It’s not like I’m not used to hands all over me at this point.” 

Krolia sighed. “You don’t help yourself, small one.” The endearment was unexpected. She looked tired, worn in a way he hadn’t seen her since his father had died. “I’m not saying that… any of this, is your fault. It isn’t. But you’ve let yourself get a target on your back before you can—”

“Before I can _what_.” He knew the answer. Simmering below his skin was the resolve he lacked, ready to burst back forth. Anxiety swirled over it, clouding what he thought he knew about himself. He tried to keep the warring emotions out of his face and failed. “I’ll handle it, whatever, it’ll be fine.” 

Krolia sighed. “I don’t want you hurt again, Keith.” She reached across the table and ran a nail over the back of his hand, tapping it before pulling back. The old motion soothed him some. 

“I know, mom.” He looked away, wishing the wine was here already. “Look, I’ll be on guard. And Allura needs this. I need to be there for her. I can’t just _not_ because the photographer is an asshole.” 

“He’s more than an asshole--” 

“I know!” He took a deep breath. “I know mom. It’ll be fine.”

“Just be careful,” she said. 

 

Outside was getting cooler by the minute. It wasn’t a full cold snap, New York wasn’t due for fall for months yet, but it was unseasonably cold out. Curtis shivered next to Shiro. 

“How much longer do you think?” 

“Not much,” Shiro said, looking through the window. “Keith went to the bathroom a little bit ago. Taylor or Brad say anything about activity out back?” Something didn’t feel right. The other two had been oddly compliant and quiet all night. 

Curtis pulled his phone out. “Nothing.”

According to his watch Keith had been gone for ten full minutes at this point. Unless he was sick, there wasn’t a reason to be in the bathroom that long before leaving for their hotel. “I’m going in, something doesn’t feel right.” 

Krolia noticed him come in, but he held hand out for her to stay. Curtis had tailed in behind him, going to her table. Shiro ignored the staff fluttering around him and beelined it for the bathrooms. From the front he couldn’t see how they were positioned near the kitchens, the door in and out easy enough to slip from kitchen to bathroom. He cursed himself for not coming in to check and shouldered through the door. 

The room was small, barely enough space for two urinals and stall. It made the scene even more stark in the cramped, dimly lit space. Two men, buff and a little familiar, crowded over a wild-eyed and shaking Keith. “Back the _fuck_ up,” he growled. 

The first one turned and Shiro had a flash of recognition. He’d seen this guy outside of the hotel. Close shaved hair, knife tattoo, overly toothy smile. 

The guy sneered. “Oh? And what are you gonna do about it—” he didn’t finish his sentence. Shiro had connected his metal hand to the man’s septum. 

The other one lunged but Shiro was faster, sweeping his leg and kneeing him in the head as he came down. That one had been outside the cafe Keith had gotten lunch at. Shiro rolled him over with his boot, not caring if it bruised a few ribs. Curtis would be in with Krolia any second to finish up if they were trying to rouse themselves. He doubted it though, they didn’t look like superfans, just hired muscle. 

Keith was still plastered to the wall, his breathing loud in the space. Shiro took a step toward him but stopped when he cowered more. 

“Are you all right?” 

No response. Keith’s eyes were trained on the men, wide and almost unseeing. His whole body was tensed in panic. Shivering with it. 

“Keith,” Shiro tried again, softly this time. “Keith, look at me, I’m not going to to touch you. I’m going to stay right here, but I need you to look up at me.”

Keith’s violet eyes flickered up and down a few times before they met Shiro’s for a significant amount of time. Shiro smiled at him. “There, hey, stay with me, just keep looking at me, okay?” 

He got a jerky sort of nod. Keith’s hands were clenching and unclenching against the wall. 

“You with me? Yeah? Okay. I need you to tell me five of your favorite things in your room at home.”

“Wha—”

“Five things, best things in your room.” Shiro smiled as big as he could. 

“Uh… um… Kosmo? And, um, t-the telescope my dad got me… and—”

“Get your hands off—Oh!” Brad was filling out the doorway, Taylor just over his shoulder. “Uh you uh, good work, Shiro, um—”

“Can it.” Shiro growled. Hired muscles, fucking hell. Outside he could hear Krolia shouting something, obviously fed up with waiting to see what was going on. She’d take care of these idiots with their goons no doubt. He turned back to Keith. “Two things that’s good, three more, you can do it. Keith, hey, ignore those assholes, just me. Three more things.” 

Keith was trying to edge away from Brad but there wasn’t a lot of space for him to move in. “Um. My pillow. It’s—it’s stupid but I really—”

Shiro smiled bright at him, bright as he could given he wanted to ram his foot into Brad’s ass so hard it would send him to the stratosphere. Krolia was there now, yanking Taylor out of the way. “No, it’s perfect, pillow, what else?” 

“The piece of quartz I have from Daibazaal. And my luxite blade. I… was that five?”

“Yeah, that was a really good five. Better than mine. Can I come closer?” Chaos was erupting around them. Krolia’s voice rang out over everyone else’s, but Curtis was a close second. He was rapidly explaining what he and Shiro had heard the previous week. Brad and Taylor were loudly trying to refute it. “Ignore them, Keith. Just me. Can I come closer?” 

Keith sniffed and nodded. He was still shivering, arms around himself now. “Yeah.” 

Shiro leap over the body on the ground and swooped into Keith’s space. Once he was there Keith fell into him, a ragged sob in his throat. That caught him off guard but he recovered, throwing an arm around Keith’s waist and tucking him close. “You’re safe now,” he whispered. “I’ve got you, Keith, you’re okay.” 

“Shiro!” 

Krolia had Brad pinned to the open door with a hand on his chest. “Take Keith back to the hotel.” It was clear Krolia had worked out what happened and believed Curtis’s account of Brad and Taylor. Shiro was grateful he didn’t have to stay for the rest of it. 

He moved to leave the bathroom but Keith snagged him in place. He was trembling against Shiro, an almost deadweight. He gathered Keith closer. 

“Can you walk?” He asked quiet enough that no one could head. 

After a moment Keith shook his head. 

Shiro cursed in his head. “Curtis, the other car still out back?” 

Curtis turned from Krolia. “Yeah, should still be there.” Without any regard for Taylor’s squawking, he grabbed the keys from the other man’s pocket and tossed them to Shiro. 

He nodded his thanks and shifted Keith in his arms. “Hold on,” he said and scooped Keith up. The little breath of shock against his throat was a sensation he’d need to peel apart later. It was doing things in his chest cavity he didn’t want to look at right now. 

Shiro carried Keith through the kitchen and out back, glaring death at anyone that even looked like they might be going for their phone. 

Getting Keith settled in the passenger seat was easier than he thought it would be. He was slowly coming back to himself, it looked like, the farther from danger they got. Still, the ride back to the hotel was silent. 

He took Keith all the way to his room, standing outside of the door, thoughts still swirling. If anything, he’d learned that what he read between the lines was likely true. The panic attack more or less confirmed it. 

“You going to be okay?” 

Keith leaned against his door, lost in thought and memories. “I’ve made it through before,” he said, voice dry and rasping. 

“It’s not what I asked,” Shiro said kindly. 

Keith looked back at him and Shiro swore he saw yellow in his eyes, the pupils thin around a halo of amethyst. When Keith blinked, it was gone. 

“Stay outside my door?”

“Of course.” 

 


	3. I have spent too many nights on dirty bathroom floors.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New York's repercussions roll out, and Keith goes to that photoshoot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning on having this done two weeks ago, but life likes to look at my creative plans and just cackle. I really, REALLY hope the next chapter is out sooner. 
> 
> The title is from "100 letters" by Halsey, and it was between that lyric and "Well King Midas put his hands on me again." 
> 
> (By which I mean, if you can't tell, we're following THAT plotline from [Joltikon](https://twitter.com/joltikon)'s comic.)

Shiro reread the email. It didn’t make any sense with everything that had transpired. So he’d called Iverson to clarify what was going on and it still wasn’t computing.

Over speakerphone Iverson sighed, it wasn’t the first time he had on the call either. “Look, Shirogane—”

“I don’t understand. I’ve _done_ my job.”

“Yes, but, and this is where our boss and I have… differences in methodology.” Iverson sounded weary, contrite. Two things that Shiro had never considered to associate with the fellow ex-marine. “She’s looking at this from a business point of view, with a difficult client. She does think they took it too far, but proving the bodyguards were needed isn’t exactly out of her wheelhouse.”

Shiro scanned the email. _We regret to inform you that… lack of professional mannerism…difference in philosophy…_ “Is this even legal?”

“I wouldn’t try Sanda on it, no. She has her ways of getting what she wants without issue. Why do you think you and Curtis are cut and the other two idiots aren’t? Not that they’ll be working for the Kogane’s anytime soon.”

Shiro snorted. What Iverson wasn’t saying was clear as a bell—Sanda, who was known for her dubious tactics, had likely directed Brad and Taylor to set up the ambush on Keith. “And who is going to protect Keith?”

“Well, I’d assume his mother would go back to her family at Marmora?” Iverson sounded truly perplexed by Shiro’s concern. “Look, I’ll write you good recommendations. Just text me directly with what you need and I’ll help you out. You’re a good man, Shirogane, I’m sorry things shook out like this.”

Shiro ended the call without really paying attention to what he told Iverson at the end. Curtis had taken the news well, not reading into the email or the inconsistencies therein. He’d looked relieved even. Maybe Shiro should feel relieved too. Instead his gut was in knots with worry, scenarios of Keith getting hurt, or left alone to someone’s darker devices, crowding his head.

The image of Keith carefree by his bike burned in his mind. The next people Sanda sent wanted to see Keith a disaster child who needed constant supervision, not a young man who needing support while he healed.

“Knock, knock.”

Shiro looked up, Curtis was leaning in his doorway. “You okay man?”

Shiro let his head hang, the weight of getting fired sitting on his shoulders. “No. I don’t have any backup right now.” He sighed. “And if I’m honest I don’t want to leave this job.”

“You’d be the only one.” Curtis was smirking a little when Shiro looked up at him. “He likes you. You’re the only one he ever liked. He might not make this easy on you, but he doesn’t go out of his way to make it hard like he did for the rest of us. Plus,” Curtis’s eyes gleamed, “You like him too.”

“Curtis, please, don’t. I’m already in hot shit for the rumors they’re probably spread—”

“Not like that, dumbass.” Curtis rolled his eyes. “You get along, is what I meant. You two talk more than I think either of you realize.”

Shiro frowned. “We do? I’ve had like two conversations with him.”

“Oh. My god. I was trying to be nice but you really are dense Shiro. You two spend car rides dissecting car makes and engine models. Tailing him outside for a smoke at night you both end up lost in the goddamn stars. When he’s not shopping with Allura he’s standing by you and pointing out all the random, dumb shit that’s happening on the street. You _always laugh_.” Curtis laughed and shook his head. “You have doe eyes for each other and it’s sickeningly adorable.”

“What! No. No I do not. I mean, okay so he’s attractive sure. You’d have to be dead not to see he’s one of the prettiest men in the world—”

“Chris Hemsworth exists, but go on.”

Shiro scowled. “He’s a client I need to protect. To do that I have to know him well, that’s all.”

“Okay Shiro, you… you go with that.” Curtis shook his head. “I’ll be out of here by tomorrow morning. Take care of yourself, okay?”

“Yeah.” Shiro put his phone on the bed and stood to shake Curtis’s hand. “You too man. You did a good job out here. Made it tolerable when the rest of the guys were asshats.”

“You too Shiro,” Curtis clapped his shoulder and left to presumably pack.

Shiro rubbed a hand over his face. He was no closer to figuring out what to do next that he had been five minutes ago. If anything it all just felt more wrong.

 

It always came back to the sensation of too many hands on him. No matter what he was doing to trigger the memory, that was what surfaced most viscerally. He considered finding a bottle to dive into, but the taste of alcohol only ever made this worse.

Driving what happened in the restaurant out of his head was proving harder than he wanted it to be. Memoires crowding him every time he closed his eyes made it hard. It was like he was collecting a series of impressions on his skin, invisibly scars from each time someone touched him, and these were just new ones to add to the mix.

“Dude!”

Keith blinked and watched as his character wilted on the screen, James’s KOing right beside him.“Fuck. Sorry, I zoned out.”

“Yeah, for the sixth time. Look we’ll play later, you’re obviously not with it right now.” It came out harsher than James likely meant it. Keith knew that, in the back of his mind. His forebrain didn’t give a fuck.

“Fuck you James. Fucking get some goddamn other friends if I’m such shit.” Keith didn’t wait for a response, just turned everything off as fast as he could.

On the bed beside him Kosmo whined. The wolf was just about the only other living thing he’d seen in the week since coming back from New York. His mother checked in on him when she was home. Otherwise it was Shiro tentatively coming around to make sure he’d eaten something.

He was late today.

Keith sniffed and flopped back on the bed, trying to muster the wherewithal to get up and go down to the kitchen. Not moving and staring idly at his wall was looking more enticing, so he did.

He stayed long enough that the late morning shadows morphed into afternoon light falling through his windows. He needed to eat, or something, but moving from the bed, from this exact position, was more effort than he had in his body. The idea of rolling over and pulling himself up, then down the stairs, was disgustingly daunting. He lolled his head to the side to stare at Kosmo. Kosmo stared back, whining again.

“I know,” Keith whispered. “It’s pathetic, but I don’t think I can get up.”

Kosmo said nothing, his yellow eyes bright in the dim room. Keith looked away from them and back at the ceiling. Getting up. Logically he knew he needed to, just like he knew he needed to eat, and he knew if he didn’t start moving and taking care of himself he’d decay right here on the bed.

He wasn’t sure he could will himself to care in this moment.

Knocking on his door decided for him. “Keith? You awake in there?”

“Yeah,” he croaked.

His mother pushed her way in, her perfume filling the space in a soft understated way, it was something he associated with comfort even if outwardly Krolia Kogane did not seem like an affectionate parent. He knew better, outer tough love waning in the face of him curled under covers pathetically.

She sat on the bed and pushed her long fingers through his hair. “Oh, starlight.”

“M’okay,” Keith mumbled, closing his eyes. “Just tired.”

She didn’t buy it, it was clear on her face, but she said nothing. “Kolivan is coming over. He wants to talk to you, if you’re up for it?”

Keith tensed. He couldn’t go through another bout of his uncles and cousins trying to beat him back into not freezing. “About what?”

“About the Garrison, they’ve fired Curtis and Shiro. He wants to talk to you about options.”

“What?” He turned to look at her properly. “Why?”

“It… seems that they weren’t happy with the handling of New York. I suspect, from the phone call I made, that Shiro’s direct boss is not happy with this decision and that this isn’t unheard of for the company owner.”

“What the fuck,” Keith hissed. He turned back down into the bed, it was in fact, partly what he’d wanted in the first place, but it didn’t feel like a win.

“While you’re…. We have to do something. What do you want to do?” She continued to pet his hair, waiting for a response.

He didn’t have one. On the one hand he didn’t want Shiro to leave, that was the initial pull in his gut. He liked Shiro, he was gorgeous and actually kind. Finding someone else like that was going to be a one in a million chance. The Curtis wasn’t bad either, but he was quiet, reserved, and completely unable to control Keith if the need arose.

On the other hand no guard dogs was exactly what he wanted. No one to tail his every move, no one to judge his decisions, and just let him breathe for once. His eyes flicked to his degree on the wall, boasting a time before he tried his hand at fame and things all went to hell. “I should have never said yes to any of this,” he muttered.

His mother hummed. “Maybe, but you’re good at it. You’re smart and talented, and it was only going to be a matter of time before they came for you little one. I’m sorry it’s been so hard.”

He burrowed deeper into his bed. “Do I need to talk to Kolivan? Can’t he just text me?”

“You need to get out of bed, starlight.” She shook his shoulder tenderly. “Come on, I want to see you downstairs and eating before I leave.”

It was slow going, pushing up and out of the bed. He moved in a daze, every limb feeling heavy and aching—he must have been tensing while he laid there, pulling in tight in his anxiety. One step after the other, pacing himself like a drugged patient fresh out of surgery. If he focused he could move normally, if the fog would just _clear_ from his head he could do it. But everything stayed muddled and too soft at the edges to grasp.

Trekking downstairs was a challenge he wasn’t ready for, wall staring was much easier to handle than this. He made it though, despite the absolute dread in his gut, made worse when Kolivan was already at the house and sitting at the kitchen island. His bulk never looked right in human homes, even his own house, build for a Galra of his size in mind, felt dwarfed compared to his size. Keith had memories of trying to climb his uncle when he was young, proclaiming him a mountain. Regris always tried to get him to fall when he did.

Kolivan pushed a steaming mug of coffee across the counter at him. “We need to talk.”

Keith grunted and ignored the coffee. A bowl of hard boiled eggs next to a pile of assorted fruit caught his eye instead. It wasn’t close to breakfast anymore but he didn’t mind. Whacking open an egg sounded like something tactilely distracting and satisfying.

Krolia said something about heading out but Keith didn’t hear the rest of their conversation. He was focused on peeling his egg.

“Keith.”

“Yeah, I hear you,” he said. “I haven’t eaten since…” he didn’t remember. Saying as much would cause trouble. “I haven’t eaten yet, let me get this down first okay?”

Kolivan graciously waited until Keith had scarfed down two eggs and was eyeing a banana to start in again. “We’re not hiring out of Garrison again, but we do need you to have a dedicated escort.”

“Since I’m obviously incapable of taking care of myself.”

“ _Keith_. After the restaurant? Yes, you currently have the habit of pissing people off and then not being able to defend yourself. Knucklehead body guards are not the only enemies you’ve made. I know you’ve seen the twitter comments on anything you post. One crazy race purist or xenophobe and you’re in trouble. We all know that you won’t back down from an verbal insult either.”

“Why should I—”

Kolivan held up a hand. “We’re not saying you don’t have to take it lying down.But we’ve seen them get violent, the assholes out there. To say nothing of the entitled big shots in this industry. You need someone right now, someone who will look out for you, you know this.”

Keith scoffed. “So you’re all sick of doing it?”

“You don’t listen to us, you never have and I don’t think you’ll start now,” Kolivan said evenly.

Keith grabbed an orange to peel instead of the banana, sinking his nails deep into the flesh and relishing the way the juice ooze out from under them.

“You trust Shirogane.”

Keith said nothing.

“Deny it all you like, but you do. _He’s_ who you asked to stay outside of your door in New York. You’ve only ever asked family before, and your mother was present. But you asked for him.” Kolivan knew he had Keith pinned with that information and didn’t even wait for Keith to try and protest. “I want to offer him a spot with Marmora. He’d be your personal guard and escort. In house, one of us.”

Keith peeled back the layers, annoyed at how thick this orange’s skin was. There were still chunks of it clinging to the slices inside. He scraped them off as best could.

“If it isn’t him then it will be new people. I know who you have a shoot with in a few weeks and I’m not letting you go to that alone. That photographer would take one of us coming as a threat, and make it difficult. But a new, neutral seeming face will allow for a smooth shoot _and_ your protection. Do you want that person to be brand new?”

The more he tried to peel off the excess skin, the more seemed to crop up in new spots he hadn’t seen.

“Keith,” Kolvan’s voice dropped. “You know that we should offer. If we don’t, we’ll have to bring in more new people to try and vet. Do you really want to start from scratch? When he’s outside right now, playing with your wolf, already part of the pack?”

Keith frowned and looked out the window. Kosmo was there, clearly teleported down from his room and sprinting around the yard with a soccer ball. Shiro was keeping pace, stealing the ball and kicking it up into the air for Kosmo to catch and run off with. His face was flushed, shirt sleeves rolled up and a wide grin split his face. Keith looked away.

“Kosmo likes him,” Kolivan said.

Keith picked at the last bits of peel on the orange. “It’ll take him forever to get used to anyone new.”

“This is true.”

“And he trusts Shiro, more than any of the others. He lets him come around without growling too much.” He flicked the last piece of peel away. “And who knows who will come next time, what rumors they heard from the Garrison assholes about—about Kosmo. Humans don’t really know what do with him.”

“He can be a hard sell on someone new,” Kolivan agreed.

“Offer him the job,” he said. “It’s him or no one.”

“I’ll speak to him today.” Kolivan rose and came around the other side of the island, dropping a heavy hand on Keith’s shoulder. “You’re doing the right thing.”

Keith nodded dumbly, refusing to look up from the orange. It was bare now, but he wasn’t hungry for it anymore.

Outside Kosmo barked happily along with Shiro’s laughter.

 

Of course his first official job under Marmora was this. Photoshoots, cameras or recordings in general really, were on Shiro’s shit list. After Kerberos, after the Xarnath Ambush, there had been news cameras in his face constantly, reporters wanting the firsthand scoop on how one of Sendak’s extremist cells got to Kerberos to ambush a joint Galra Empire and Garrison training drill. Being around so many of them still made him twitch, but at least he wasn’t on the other end of them.

Keith was though. Allura’s line was stunning on him, all of it sheer and displaying Keith’s lithe physique. The photographer was creating pure art out of Allura’s pieces and Keith’s body, Shiro had to admit that much. He could also very easily admit he was close to decking the man for how much liberty he was taking with Keith’s body. Kolivan had been kind in his assessment of the man, which was saying something.

“That’s it, be sure to keep your pretty bum out.” The man cupped Keith’s ass as he said it, the other hand curled around Keith’s hip.

Shiro’s metal hand scraped loudly as he clenched his fist. The photographer was manhandling him like Keith was his plaything. He moved to tease Keith’s hair, musing about putting the extensions back in and Shiro rose. This had to be stopped. He’d made several steps forward when Keith caught his eye and waved him back.

“But maybe a break! I’m starving,” the man sauntered off to craft services and Keith just about collapsed on the set bed. 

Shiro watched as he yanked the robe up around his shoulders, curling in on himself like a cornered animal. He approached slowly, giving Keith room to turn him away again. He didn’t, and Shiro sat down heavily beside him. “I… I don’t understand you. This is the one thing you’ve… why would you put yourself in this position?” He crossed his arms and scuffed a foot on the floor. “I’m here to help you, to stop that, why won’t you let me?”

“I appreciate your concern, but he hasn’t done anything,” Keith said, the words spoken slowly, with care. When Shiro opened his mouth to protest Keith put a hand up. “He hasn’t. He’s positioned my body—all photographers do. He’s helped make me enticing, to show off the line, he’s doing his _job_.”

“But he’s—”

“And who is going to believe that a genius photographer is taking advantage of a kid with an already dubious rep?” This part was said in a single breath, so fast it took Shiro several seconds to comprehend the words.

He looked at Keith and saw his violet eyes were wide and pleading. Shiro had to close his own. “He hasn’t done anything actually actionable, has he?”

Keith pulled the robe tighter around himself. “No, he hasn’t.”

“Is your reputation really that important to you? To your mother?” He couldn’t believe that Krolia actually wanted this for her son. She knew, more than she let on in front of others, how hurt Keith was.

“No,” Keith snorted. “But Allura’s is, and like it or not this is the man that can set her on the market. Once she’s got standing we can be picky. Right now it’s a politics game.”

Shiro leaned forward on his knees, writing his hands together. All around him he could see the way the women and men on set bowed to the photographer to his face, but once his was turned away their expressions soured.

“The Senate is putting the citizen ship bill forward soon too,” Keith whispered. “I can’t risk acting up.”

Shiro swore under his breath. He’d forgotten about the citizenship bill and the headache that presented for Keith and his family. The predicted vote was close, with politicians on both sides keeping their cards close to their chests. Stances varied by the hour at this point, and even though it was just the Senate vote the media was striking out at any opportunity to showcase the best and worst of their off-world brethren.

“Okay.” He leaned back and looked at Keith. “I want you to blink at me, twice, slowly, if you want me to intervene. And _if_ he does anything I deem assault I’m getting on his ass with or without your signal.”

Keith nodded. “Okay.” He reached a hand out and squeezed Shiro’s thigh, his nails only just biting through the fabric. “Thank you, Shiro. I’m…” he took a deep breath, “I’m really glad you’re here with me.”

Shiro chuckled. “Kind of have to be, job and all.”

“You don’t,” Keith said, his voice steel. “You could have left, and no one would have blamed you.”

Shiro looked at Keith, this man with more under his skin than a super nova, more bite than a crocodile and more loyalty than a wolf, and couldn’t fathom letting anyone else protect him. “I would have blamed me.”

A surprised smile broke over Keith’s face, the bare dusting of a flush coating his cheeks under the blush. He opened his mouth to say something but the photographer chose that moment to call everyone back to set.

Shiro squeezed Keith’s shoulder encouragingly and retreated to his spot. The photographer smiled at him as they passed each other. Shiro did not return it.

The rest of the shoot was more of the same. More hands all over Keith, more Keith taking it with a stiff upper lip. More Shiro clenching his fists.

They were almost finished, Keith trussed up in the final piece a body suit in lilac fishnet and lace, draped on his back over the bed. The photographer was urging his hips up and shoulders down. Keith’s spine curved obscenely up over the duvet, on leg bend at the knee and the other fallen open against the bed.

“Yes, that’s it. Supple, soft. Relax your mouth a bit more, let it open—yes that’s it. Like you just got fucked by your lover and you’re trying to lure them back.”

Shiro swore Keith’s eyes flicked in his direction but he didn’t let his thoughts follow that path. The photographer was wading into dangerous territory with words alone.

“Open your legs a bit more, there you go. Imagine that lover, think of them aching for you, naked and right there. Get that pretty cock plumped a bit if you can.” He laughed to himself, oblivious to the instant change in atmosphere around him, clicking away on his camera.

Shiro was seeing red. Surely he could step in here, there was no way anything that had just been said was in any way—

“That’s is baby, so good for me. And they say the Galra are feral beasts, preposterous. Look at this docile little kitten!”

Shiro didn’t have time to blink between the photographer’s statement and the snarl that echoed through the studio. Keith had, in an instant, shifted from soft and alluring to deadly. His spine was arched but nothing about the way he held himself off the bed look like submission. His legs were tensed, the muscles taught under his skin, while his hands fisted in sheets that tore under the strength of his claws. His teeth were bared, canines long and fierce over his cherry stained lips and his eyes flashed gold around violent, slitted, amethyst irises.

Everyone jumped a foot back from him but Shiro. He was trapped, ensnared by the show of pure power Keith put on without moving an inch. In moments he’d flipped the switch from ‘kitten’ to _panther_ and it was doing something to Shiro’s ability to breathe.

“Take the shot,” Keith hissed. He hadn’t so much as twitched from his pose and the single click of the shutter broke through the tense silence like a gunshot.

“Well,” the photographer said, after clearing his throat several times, trying to get his voice to do something other than squeak. “That’s a contrast spread if I ever saw one. Ahem, yes, thank you, Keith. I think we’ve got it. That’s, that’s a wrap, everyone, g-good work.”

No one moved until Keith relaxed onto the bed, slumped really, and he shifted out of his Galra traits. Shiro fought his way through the instant chaos of clean up, ignoring the photographers rapid terse chatter to an intern. Keith was laying prone, face slack and staring up at the ceiling.

Shiro knelt by the bed and pressed a hand next to Keith’s shoulder. “Hey, you okay?”

Keith continued to stare up into the rafters. “I want to get dressed and go home,” he said tonelessly.

Shiro closed his eyes. “Okay.”

 

Of course Allura fell in love with the Galra shot, there was no way she wouldn’t. Upon seeing it with his own two eyes Keith had a hard time denying its appeal. In the first shot he was a pouting pretty draped over a bed, arched and waiting. Juxtaposed next to it was him tensed, ready to pounce despite the prone position, nothing but lines of fury.

“I want you to talk more about it before the interview, if you can. Give me some quotes I can feed the interviewer,” she chirped over the phone. “Better yet come with me!”

“No,” Keith said immediately. Just the thought of getting exposed again, in any way, was making his skin crawl. He rubbed at his hip where he could still feel the way he’d been manhandled. “But you can quote me, anything I’ve said. Whatever you want, it’s fine. I’m just glad it’s over and the photos turned out.”

Heavy silence came over the line. “…He was awful, wasn’t he? Keith, I’m so, so sorry. If there had been any other photographer the magazine would have let me—”

“I know.” He forced his voice to be calm and kind. It wasn’t Allura’s fault, not really, and he wasn’t mad at her at all. But he couldn’t stomach giving more of himself in person to the magazine. “I’m okay, it wasn’t that bad, honestly.”

“You shifted because of him, didn’t you?”

Keith snorted. “Yeah, he said something pretty out of line. I think I might have made him pee himself though. Half-Galra boy finally going feral.”

“That’s not what you do, what any of you do, you know that,” Allura sighed. “All right. I’ll whip up some soundbites out of what you’ve already said. Hopefully we can sew those into the interview well. Text me if you think of more though.”

“Thanks Allura, I appreciate it. And I will.”

They made plans for dinner the next week, after her interview, and hung up. Keith tossed the phone onto the bed from where he was sitting on the floor, staring out of his windows. The sky was bright blue, no single cloud in the sky. It looked blank, like someone had just wiped a roller brush over the canvas and called it a day.

He let out a long breath and closed his eyes.

“Enough.”

The gym downstairs was where Shiro could be found most hours of the day he wasn’t working or reading. Keith had passed by it enough to casually watch him wail on the punching bag. Once he even caught Shiro and his mother squaring off, Shiro holding his own against the physical weapon his mother was. The other Garrison goons had been around then and properly terrified.

Shiro was there like he predicted, sweating on the rowing machine. The news was blaring on about the vote, talking heads yelling at each other about xenophobia and legitimacy of half-alien children living here on earth. Keith spotted the remote and turned the TV off.

Shiro startled and whipped around to see who was there. “Keith,” he said, breath punched out of him. Keith wanted to think it was because he was standing in front of Shiro in yoga pants and a too loose tank, but it was likely because of the rowing machine.

“Hey. I…” he sniffed and looked away, crossing his arms. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Yeah, sure. What, uh, what is it?” Shiro rose from the machine, wrapping a towel around his neck to catch the sweat that glistened there.

Keith bounced on his heels and tried to choke out the anxiety rising inside of him. “I need to train… to get myself back. I can’t always rely on you to throw a punch when need be. I have to be able to defend myself without freezing.” There, he’d said it.

Shiro’s expression remained neutral, open even. “We can try that, I think. How do you want to start? What were you thinking?”

Keith wasn’t and said as much. After bandying several options around they ended up with Shiro wearing a set of boxing pads while Keith bounced on his toes, fists raised.

“I used to win competitions,” he said, testing how his body moved, circling Shiro. The muscle memory was there, surfacing as he kept himself in stance.

“I know,” Shiro said, mirroring Keith as he danced around. “Your mother told me while she put me in my place. You gonna do the same?”

“You bet your ass.” Keith lunged, his fist connecting with the blocker on Shiro’s metal arm. The smack was loud in his ears and his knuckles stung even though they were wrapped. It felt weak, Shiro not even flinching at the connection.

“Again,” Shiro said, digging his heels into the floor. “Make me move.”

Keith danced around Shiro, tossing punches at him one after another, but they all felt weak. His form was still good, but he couldn’t follow through on a substantial blow.

“You’re pulling back,” Shiro said when Keith was well sweaty and panting in front of him. “You’re not coming at me with conviction.”

“I know.”

“You can’t be afraid of your own hands.”

“I _know_.”

“They’re going to work,” Shiro said, grey eyes flinty. “You’ve got the strength, put it behind the move.”

“I know!” Keith spat. He _knew_ what he needed to do, he couldn’t get the buzzing panic in his brain to let him.

Something shifted in Shiro’s expression and he dropped the pads. He took three quick steps at Keith the moment he did, making Keith back up, heart in his throat.

“Come at me,” Shiro growled. “Come on, no padding, show me what you’ve got raw. Hit me.”

“What?”

“Hit me.”

“ _What._ ”

Shiro stepped back, arms raised, but not enough to block. He was leaving himself open. “Hit me. Come on, I know you can. I know you can probably knock me flat on my ass.”

Keith backed up. He felt the chords of panic wrap around his chest and squeeze. Last time he wasn’t enough though. Last time it didn’t work, he’d been too weak, and slow, because he hadn’t paid attention to his damn _drink_. God he was such a fuck up anyway he deserved it, didn’t he? In some sick way that was all he was—the genius turned party boy who made his own bed, ready for plunder. He only had himself to bla—

“HIT ME!”

Shiro’s voice rocketed through the room like thunder. The sound triggered a knee jerk reaction in Keith, his closed fist connecting with the underside of Shiro’s jaw and sent him flying.

Shiro landed on his ass with a thud and a low groan. “What the fuck,” Keith whimpered. His wrist killed, it’d been too long since he’d punched something properly and Shiro was made of concrete. “What the _fuck_.” Across the room Shiro was sitting up and rubbing his chin. He was getting up pretty quickly, coming to eye level with Keith even though— _oh_ , Shiro wasn’t getting up, _he_ was going down.

“Keith!”

He collapsed in a heap on the floor, shaking. “Oh _god_.” The sobs were bubbling up in him. They were like lava, like smoke and ash, erupting out of him.

“Keith, Keith I’m here.” Shiro was in front of him, purple blossoming on the underside of his jaw. His hands hovered over Keith, twitching out to touch and not making contact. “What do you need?”

He didn’t mean to, it wasn’t something he did, but he lurched forward into Shiro and clung to the man. He could hear himself. The aborted breath and harsh, wracking sobs. He was wailing like a goddamn _child_ and he couldn’t stop.

Shiro, strong, unflappable Shiro, just gathered Keith up and cradled him in his arms. It felt like everything inside of him was shattering into pieces he would never find. The assault, the hush up with his agent, his inability to protect himself. His naivety. The worth of his word. Every laceration from the incident he thought long scabbed over was open and bleeding out in Shiro’s arms.

Keening gave way to pathetic hiccuping cries, but he was still beyond even words so Shiro just scooped him up and carried him. If his mother was around she said nothing. Keith didn’t actually see and hoped she wasn’t here to witness his full on breakdown. He needed to be strong for her, she did enough for him as it was.

Shiro brought him to his room. Kosmo was there, whining and dancing at Shiro’s feet trying to get to Keith.

Gently, like he really could break, Shiro laid him in his bed and pulled the duvet around him. Wrapping him in warmth and pulling Keith again into the safety of his arms. Kosmo crawled up the bed and planted himself over their legs.

Shiro said nothing outside of soft cooing, telling Keith he was all right, that he was safe, and that is was okay to cry.

When Keith felt completely dried out he risked his voice. “I’m sorry.” It was raspy, low and weak. He cleared his throat to try again but Shiro beat him to it.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Shiro rubbed his hand up and down Keith’s back. “I’m sorry I pushed you. I didn’t realize it might trigger a panic attack.”

Keith looked at the pattern of tear stains on Shiro’s shirt. He traced one with a finger, up and down the inside of Shiro’s pec. “It wasn’t a panic attack, at least not a normal one,” he said slowly. “I… I never cried about it. I never got angry or… or properly emotional about it. I think that was what that was.”

Shiro’s hand came up and carded through his hair. “Finally letting it all out?”

“Yeah.” Keith sniffed. “Yeah I think so.”

“You were hurt, Keith.” Shiro’s face pressed against his temple, and it was easy to pretend Shiro was giving him a tender kiss there. Maybe he really was. Keith was too tired to ferret it out. “What happened was in no way your fault. And you get to _be_ hurt about it, you can’t heal without letting yourself mourn.”

Keith snorted. “No one died. I never even told you what happened.”

“No you didn’t, but I can fill in the blanks. And sure,” Shiro agreed. “No one died. But your confidence, maybe. Your belief that you’re strong did, very much so. You’re self-assuredness that if _anyone_ comes for you they’re going to see just how much of a bitch you really can be? I think that definitely took a dive. You aren’t who you were, and you get to grieve over that. It's okay.”

This was the worst part about crying. Being sure you were out of tears only for the reservoir to fill and overflow once more. This time was quiet at least. His chest remained intact as he cried into Shiro. “I’m always so scared now.” He whispered.“I have to play it off but I’m _terrified_ Shiro.”

Shiro folded him in closer, rocking them gently. “I know baby, I’ve got you. Until you’re ready I’ve got you.”


End file.
